//------------------------------//
// 2 - Carte Blanche 
// Story: Marks of the Moon 
// by Moonatik 
//------------------------------//


01:09 - 25/10/1001 - Gibbous Preparatory Academy, Stableside


Rain pattered down on the window of the empty classroom. That, and the scratch of a pencil on paper, was all that reached my ears. I always found myself coming here during lunch recess as I knew it was quiet and unoccupied at that time. A year earlier, a part of me thought a new school would mean new chances to make friends, but it didn’t take me long to retreat back into solitude. The most I’d do with the other students was play hoofball, but nothing more. I sure wouldn’t stay and chat afterwards.

I was sketching a pony I knew, a pegasus colt specifically. His name was Dream Boat, and my goodness was that ever an appropriate name. I knew him from my algebra and Equestrian classes, and even though I tried not to show it, I’d light up with delight every time he volunteered to read in front of the class. He had a wonderful voice and a manner of speaking where every word was delivered clearly and pronounced precisely. I could’ve listened to him speak for hours, yet I had only  tried to speak with him outside of class once. But before I could say anything substantive, I quietly stepped away from the conversation out of fear of devolving into a blubbering mess.

To be honest, it was an excellent drawing, seeing it in front of me slapped a smile on my face. I’d drawn him blowing a kiss, and while it wasn't easy getting his contagious smile or his luxurious curled mane right, the finished product was gorgeous. I’d noticed that I was improving at drawing cleaner lines, too. I thought if I were ever to talk to him for real I’d offer to draw a picture of him, so I considered this practice for whenever that night came. I’d want it to be perfect.

I licked my lips. They felt dry, as did my mouth as a whole. Listening to the constant downpour of rain outside didn't help. I glanced around the table only to confirm what I already knew, nothing to drink, and there were no water fountains in this part of the school. Great. I still had time before my next lesson started, it’d be no trouble to stop by the nearest fountain for some water. I hopped to my hooves, stashed my notebook under my wing, and made my way to the exit. And as soon as I stepped outside, my shirt, mane, and coat were soaked.

Stupid dress code. No hoodies, no hooded jackets, no nothing. Not even on a night like tonight. My shirt pocket was too small to carry anything more than a pencil and an eraser, and the pockets on my pants weren’t big enough to hold the notebook either. The most I could do is keep it under my wing and hope for the best. If only I hadn’t left my bag and my blazer in my locker, but by then I’d learned that the less I carried the better. Knowing my luck it would’ve ended up in the hooves of-

“Cartie boy!”

Them.

And all of a sudden my night went from ‘meh’ to ‘awful’.

Two ponies approached me, I kept my eyes away but my ears involuntarily flickered towards them. One was a tall earth pony named Root Stalk, and the other was a unicorn around my height named Frosted Glass. For the last year leading up to then, they were my tormentors.

Frost came up on my right. “You look grumpy, Cartie boy, something the matter?” he teased. I didn't look up, but I was all too familiar with his appearance. Frost's coat was a garish blonde, his short black mane all gelled up. He almost always wore his uniform spotless and tidy, which combined with his pompous smirk made him look like a stereotypically slimy politician with the added stupidity of a teenager. "Hey femboy!" he waved a hoof in front of my face. I didn't react.

Root came up on my left. “Aww, does fangs not wanna talk to us?” he nudged me, throwing me slightly off balance, though I quickly recovered and kept my pace. Root’s coat was reddish-orange, like rotten fruit, but more generally he looked like the dictionary definition of a meathead owing to his ungainly build and stubby snout.

Eyes close to the ground and moving quickly, I tried to ignore them. At the very least I wasn't going to show them that they were getting to me. Both of them were from families of the local business elite, they wouldn’t have been able to afford to get into the school otherwise. Under Celestia’s rule, their families did amazingly well, in no small part due to underpaying and overworking their thestral workers. But since Nightmare Moon’s return and her government’s campaigns for swift justice, much of that exploited wealth was finding its way back into thestral pockets.

“We know your big freakish bat ears can hear us, so drop the stoic tough guy act, will you?” Root flicked one of my ears. I flinched, barely, but kept my mouth closed. “Doesn’t suit you, femboy.”

Always with the low blows. My family - thestral businessponies and proud Lunarists - had always been successful, but the Lunar government’s initiatives aimed at helping thestral businesses and communities had certainly done us good. Consequently, morons like these two went straight to being racist brats because they couldn’t comprehend not being at the top of the social pecking order any more. Not that I expected tact from them, but oh well. I quickly picked up my pace, keeping my head down and pretending not to notice.

“Alright, enough small talk,” Root stepped in front of me, forcing me to a stop. “Give us the money, fangs,” he demanded.

My eyes were locked to the ground, my mouth was shut tight. For a few seconds, I said nothing as they stared expectantly at me. Eventually, I scrounged up the courage to say something. “I don’t have any money on me," I groaned, and then I turned away and set off.

“So?” Root blocked my path again. “Go get some.”

I shuddered, my wings clenching closer to my body. I felt that I could get them off my back if I brushed them aside and showed I didn’t care for their minotaur crap. I raise my head and try staring Root in the eyes whilst showing my fangs. “I’m not letting you steal from me again,” I meekly blurted out.

“Ooo!” Frost mocked whilst making annoying gestures with his hooves. “Reaal scary, leatherwings.”

“Come on, it’s not stealing!” Root said, taking a step closer to me to emphasise the terrifying chasm between our heights. He grabbed my tie and yanked me towards him, causing my whole body to shake. “We’re just… redistributing back what you bloodsuckers stole from us when your ‘Empress’ took over,” he sneered.

“Just leave me alone,” is what I would have said, if I didn’t first feel something falling from under my wing.

I heard the rustling of paper and the shimmer of magic, followed by Frost’s sickening laugh. My heart sank. “Ooh, what’s this?” he said.

Oh no.

“Wait,” Frost snickered. I saw him holding my notebook in his magic, flipping through the pages. He stopped on the most recent page, his jaw fell with a gasp and his eyebrows shot up. “Is that Dream Boat?” he held my notebook up, for me to watch in paralyzed terror and for Root to mock in heartless glee.

“Sun above, no way!” Root turned towards Frost. “Let me see!”

“Stop it!” I begged whilst grasping for my notebook, but Root effortlessly held me back by holding out a hoof and pressing it to my chest. “Give it back!” I whined, throwing my legs and wings around desperately trying to push against his strength. It was all in vain.

“Sweet Celestia, you have a creepy crush on Dream Boat!” Frost dangled the notebook in front of my face. “I knew you were a perv, but this is something else!”

“Hey,” Root laughed, “what’s Dream gonna think of this when we show him?”

“No!” I wailed, still fruitlessly flailing my legs at my notebook.

My whole body froze when I heard the long, protracted noise of paper being ripped. Frost had torn the drawing out of my notebook.

“I bet he’ll love this,” Frost fluttered the page in my face. “I think he’s just over by the cafeteria.”

“Give it back!” I cried out.

Frost narrowed his eyes, giving me a cold, vicious stare as a monstrous smirk crept onto his mouth. “Sure, we don’t need the rest of your perv book. Catch!” and he flung my notebook away.

Desperately I leapt to catch my notebook, slipping and landing belly-first on the pavement, watching helplessly as my notebook splattered into a puddle of mud in the grass by the pavement. Ignoring the pain I scampered up and dashed to my notebook, grabbing it out of the mud. Or rather, what was left of it.

I panickedly flipped from page to page, a deep and profound sense of horror sinking in. It was soiled, every last page either falling apart from being soaked or stained with so much mud that its contents were unintelligible. Months of drawings, months of thoughts, months of ideas, months of my most treasured creations, ruined.

“See you around, perv!” one of them shouted, followed by a laugh. I don’t remember who said it. I was barely paying attention.

Eventually, my frantic flipping decelerated to slowly turning from one page to the next, my grimy hooves shaking as I knew exactly what awaited me on each new sheet. Dizziness and nausea overtook me and I nearly choked on my own breath. My vision blurred as tears welled in my eyes. One streaked down my cheek, and my head hung low.

Until, in a moment so quick I barely noticed it, my sorrowed gasps turned to heavy, seething huffs. I raised my head, feeling my eyebrows sink and pull together. My jaw tightened, and air huffed out of my nostrils and through my clenched teeth. I wiped the tears from my eyes, not noticing or caring that I’d smeared mud on my face. My heart pounded in my chest. Whatever I’d felt mere seconds ago had faded, replaced with a need for payback and clarity of purpose.

Buried in the mud, I spotted a rock. Small enough to carry in my hooves, big enough to break something. Not only that, one end was pointed, not sharp enough to cut anything but with enough force going into it, it’d leave a nasty hole in anything. I felt like I’d been possessed by a force of pure rage, and it had presented me with the perfect tool for my revenge.

I scooped up the rock. With my wings spread wide I whirled around on the spot and leapt upwards, taking flight. Frost and Root were still slowly walking away, my teeth were grinding at the sight of them alone. My ego shut down and my id went into overdrive as I thrust my wings down and rocketed towards them.

I shouted out “Frost!” and quickly raised the leg carrying the rock, not losing an iota of momentum.

He and Root span around, presenting me with their smug, punchable faces.

And in a lightning-quick motion I struck Frost on the top of the head.

A scream followed. To this night I couldn’t tell you whose it was. Frost crashed down head-first onto the concrete path beneath him. I heard a sharp crack. At the same moment, I landed and skidded to a stop. Spinning around, I saw blood spilling from his horn. His eyes were wide and teary, his mouth agape and stretched back. He desperately clambered at his horn, as small sparks of weak light spewed out of it. 

“Holy shit!” Root staggered back, “Carte what the fu-”

I nailed Root right between the eyes, the sharp end of the rock first. He wailed, his bulky body stumbled backwards, yet I wasn’t done. I swung the rock around again, right into the side of his head, and he toppled to the ground.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. That was never going to be enough. I shot down to crouch on top of Root and hit him square on the snout. I needed more. I struck again. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I struck every part of his face. He put up his hooves to block, it didn’t stop me, it barely slowed me. Hit after hit. Crack after crack. His nose, his eyes, his teeth, his cheekbones, his chin, all were bloodied and dirtied in moments. Blood and grime stained my hooves. If I’d been grinding my teeth any more than I was, they'd have shattered. I may have gone on forever if something hadn’t grabbed me around the leg and pulled me up.

“Carte!” Dream Boat shouted. He’d dragged me up off the ground and he held me in front of him, his pinpoint pupils staring into my eyes. “What the hell did you just do?” he cried. His lips were quivering, his breaths panting, eyebrows pulled up. I was used to seeing him so confident. I’d never seen him like this before. I’d never seen him pay this much attention to me before. If my heart wasn’t racing before, it was doing laps then.

My gaze shifted to the bullies. Frost was frantically pushing himself away from me, looking up at the broken mass of bone and blood that used to be his horn. His whole face was soaked with blood. Root's chest heaved breaths in and out, but he wasn’t moving beyond that. His face was reduced to an unrecognizable gory mass of flesh, sanguine fluid spilling out of every orifice and freshly made gash. I snapped back to Dream.

“I- they- I,” I tried to speak. What had I done? A million thoughts raced through my mind. I’d just assaulted two ponies with a rock in front of several other ponies, they were on the floor wailing in pain and misery as tears streaked down their faces, I’d left them with injuries both physical and possibly psychological that would take Nightmare knows how long to heal. Root could have brain damage and a permanently disfigured face, Frost might never be able to cast a spell with his own horn again.

It felt amazing.

Nightmare as my witness, I know exactly what I did. “I broke their fucking faces.”

Dream released me, he staggered back. His gaze rapidly alternated between me and the two bullies on the ground. I looked away and fell to my haunches. I held up the rock, staring at it. The rest of the world faded out of focus. It was drenched in mud and blood. As it dripped off the rock and onto my hoof, it excited me. My breath got heavier. I could still hear them wailing, Frost had fully broken down into teary incoherent babbling, and it thrilled me. The smell of freshly spilt blood crept into my nostrils, and it aroused me.

I’d attracted an audience. A dozen ponies at least, students and faculty amongst it. Some gasped, most just watched, one pony puked. Frost cried insults at me, I didn’t care. Some in the audience begged me for an explanation, I paid them no mind. I hadn’t even realised a cutie mark had appeared on my flank. Only a single realisation flashed through my mind as a smile split my muzzle and a laugh escaped my lips.

I really liked to hurt other creatures.


16:39 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest


“Y-y-you broke their faces?” Apple Bloom gasped, her jaw on the floor.

“Wait, you got a cutie mark in… s-sadism?” Sweetie Belle squealed, consciously pushing herself away from Carte.

“That’s hardcore!” Scootaloo beamed with stars in her eyes, then she noticed the reaction from her friends. “I- well, I think it is! They were bullies! How bad can that be?”

“Tch,” Carte scoffed, dismissively flicking a hoof. “Told you it wasn’t for the faint of heart.”

“You had to have been expelled after that, right?” Sweetie asked.

“Nope. Got away with it,” Carte smirked.

“What?” the three fillies shouted at once.

“Unless a short suspension and having to make a personal apology counts as punishment,” Carte snickered. “Heh, ‘apology’, I was grinning from ear to ear when I said it.”

“How’d they let you off so easy?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Eh, my dad’s rich. Had a lot of influence over the school. Still does, as far as I know.” Carte said, chuckling to himself. His gaze went unfocused, he leaned back into the sofa and stared at the chandelier whilst popping a fresh lollipop into his mouth. “After that night, I was never the same. Never spent another lunch break huddled away in an empty classroom, from then on I was making friends left and right. Heh, even went on a date with Dream. He got over that initial first impression pretty quickly, believe it or not. We even ended up as each other’s first kiss! Moon above, other kids were asking me to hang around them to keep bullies away, idiots were terrified of me, as they damn well should’ve been…”

Carte droned on, partly to himself and partly to the fillies. For half a minute or so he hadn’t even noticed that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle got up and moved to another sofa, followed shortly by an attentive Scootaloo. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle mostly opted to look at each other and only glance infrequently at Carte, hardly stopping themselves from shaking, but Scootaloo did her best to listen closely to Carte’s rambling.

Their attention was pulled away from Carte when a door swung open behind them, filling the room with a distinct creak. The fillies spun around and poked their heads over the back of the sofa, and spotted a smalt-blue unicorn had entered. Their mane, coloured part black and part aquamarine blue, had been cut short at the back but flowed luxuriously over their soft countenance.

Sweetie waved at the entrant. “Hey, Mi-”

Scootaloo forced her hoof into Sweetie’s mouth. “Mister!” Scootaloo called. “She was going to say mister.”

The pony waved, bringing attention to the long, thin scar across their leg. “Yeah?”

“Hey!” Carte swiftly sprang up smiling, “Sergeant Sol Nightshade himself, a pleasure to finally meet you! Is your lady-friend around?”

“Uhh, she’s busy right now. I was told to wait for her here,” Sol said. He cast a sceptical look at Carte. “Why’d you ask?”

Carte glanced away from Sol and towards the fillies, then he looked back at Sol whilst throwing him a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Oookay…” Sol walked further into the room, keeping his eyes on the Crusaders. “Who are these kids?” he asked.

“We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” they announced in sync, annunciating it with a triple hoof bump.

Sol chuckled. “Oh wow!” he said, followed by a quiet, drawn-out pause. “...What’s that?”

“We help ponies all over Ponyville discover their true talents!” Apple Bloom declared.

“But mostly,” Scootaloo chimed in, “we just go around being awesome!”

“Heh,” Sol cracked a smile. “I dig it. Equestria could always use more foals like that.”

Sweetie Belle then let out a gasp, she pointed at Sol’s flank. “Ooh, look at his cutie mark!”

All eyes were on Sol’s flank, and the imagery of a sharp machete before a silver-blue shield it displayed. Sol spun on the spot a little, giving the fillies a better look. “Oh yeah, this! Wanna know how I got it?”

“Yes!” the fillies replied.

“Alright,” Sol turned to face them. “Way back when I was in high school, I had to stand up to a bunch of bullies-”

“Again?” Apple Bloom shuddered.

“Wait,” Sweetie said, “did you break their faces?”

“Did do you it with a rock?” Scootaloo beamed.

“Huh?” one of Sol’s hooves shot up to his chest, his head flinching back.

Carte snickered, catching Sol’s attention. “Iunno what they’re talking about,” Carte shrugged.

Sol’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step towards Carte. “What did you tell them?” Sol asked firmly.

A barely suppressed chuckle escaped Carte’s mouth. “Mmmrh, just how I got my cutie mark by breaking a bully’s face with a rock.”

“Woah woah woah!” Sol bolted a few steps back and whirled around towards the fillies whilst wiggling a hoof in the air. “Hey, trust me, this story has a happy ending, alright?... Okay, it's a little violent, but, nothing you wouldn't see in a foal's cartoon.”

Silence briefly hung over the room. “Alright, go ahead,” Apple Bloom said hesitantly, rubbing her leg. Sweetie Belle sat still, and Scootaloo leaned forwards with a smile.

“Okay,” Sol approached the sofa and sat down with the fillies, “this was, hm, thirteen years ago when I was growing up in Manehattan, Hayston specifically..."